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From:

hippie_ninja

He is alive. He is, because he's not a walker.

You know yourself.

There is no other phrase that could have landed for him.

He leans against K, just enough his shoulder is against K's chest. His weight is barely there at all; it would hurt to lean too far but he's also not in a place where he can be both mentally sore and physically needy. So this: this is all he can do.

From:

konstant

K feels the most unsteady he ever has, even with multiple holes in his gut; but when Jesus leans there, he might as well be leaned against a wall for how little K moves. For this, he can hold.

He lets his temporarily cool hands cover Jesus's over his chest, over his wrist; he closes his eyes so he can focus on staying upright, staying steady, on hoping anything he said can help.

"I'm glad you came here."

From:

hippie_ninja

"So am I." It's becoming the norm for him to come to K and to end up feeling better about something, even if he hadn't started out feeling badly in the first place. Which makes him wonder if K gets anything close to it in return.

He squeezes K's shoulder and stands, to get the blankets and the pillows, and to take a moment to give K another assessing look. There's nothing wrong with him physically that he could find, but no one would look at K and say he looked like he's feeling all right.

From:

konstant

Sitting up, talking, paying attention are all taking their toll on K, who is beginning to shiver again by the time Jesus is arranging bedding on the floor; he feels mentally better for it, more centered in himself, but he doesn't argue again about Jesus getting up. He pulls one of the sandwiches into his lap but stops before unwrapping it to rub his eyes again while Jesus is across the room.

He focuses again when he comes near once more, setting the sandwich aside in preparation to move down to the pallet.

"Thank you."

From:

hippie_ninja

"I'm the reason you're going to be sleeping on the floor looking like you caught the plague," he frowns. He resists the urge to check him for fever again and instead adds the pillow Jesus was probably meant to be using. Let K have it, let him be extra comfortable. "Don't thank me. I feel bad enough already."

From:

konstant

"We're both the reason. You're not comfortable near me right now," K points out, calmly. There's no accusation, no guilt or hurt because, "I don't trust myself. Neither of us wants to be alone. Do you have a better compromise?"

He's already easing down into the new blanket nest though.

From:

hippie_ninja

"You sleep on the floor. But I get to take care of everything else." He lays down gingerly, with his head propped up on one hand so he can watch over K as he settles in.

From:

konstant

"You can use the bathroom if you need to," K offers by way of reply. It's been two days, Jesus is probably already settled, but it's there. "And borrow some of my clothes. I don't know how much good I'll be for... a while."

He still wants to try with the sandwich, but he also wants to sleep.

From:

hippie_ninja

K can't have any idea what those little gestures mean in the context of Jesus's world. He tries to take them in this context, so they have the meanings K intends. But he also hopes that he himself never takes for granted what it can mean when someone offers their roof, their bed, their clothing. He doesn't want to become so used to this world that those things don't still stir things up in him.

"You just have to rest." And eat. "I'll just be here."

Keeping watch, dozing, listening. He doesn't want to leave until K has recovered from whatever this is.

From:

konstant

He's not as clueless as someone from a living planet might be; K always had enough thanks to being government property and an expensive piece of equipment, but he saw how much a single meal off a street cart meant to some people. He gave away clothes before.

It's no accident that anything he has, he'd share with Jesus.

"Try to sleep, too," he suggests, sighing gratefully as he eases down onto his side, back to Jesus. There's not much hope in him for that one though.

From:

hippie_ninja

"I'll try." He is tired. He's aware of how much sleep he needs, too, to recover from a weeklong mission.

And he does try. He gets four hours, and he wakes peacefully from a dream where he and K are sitting and watching a blank television. K is dead, most of the skin peeling off his face, exposing his molars, tearing at the corners of his lips when he speaks.

It means when he wakes he spends a very long time just studying K, watching him breathing.

From:

konstant

Another reason K wasn't concerned about taking the floor: he sleeps like the dead should, completely unaware of wherever it is he's actually laying. Jesus has slept beside him before and K is usually quiet, usually still, but also very readily able to be woken. This time he's not disturbed at all by the attention on him, and his breathing is deep, even, and slow; he doesn't move a single muscle once he's out, which was almost immediate after he closed his eyes.

He sleeps for several hours past when Jesus wakes up, until the dawn light starts creeping in through the drawn shades. It's not much here in the Down, it doesn't actually touch K, but the silhouette comes close and it brings the entire room up an important few shades. He wakes all at once, and hard with a deep, gulped breath and a push for upright that would work a lot better if every muscle in his body weren't half dead to him from sleep.

He breathes a word that sounds like cells.

From:

hippie_ninja

He doesn't watch K the whole time. He tries to sleep again and can't, so he listens to the city instead, identifying sounds he knew in the old world and imagining what it will be like to live here. (How long?)

He instinctively sits up when K stirs, used to having to block a bleary, panicked blow when people wake that hard.

From:

konstant

K doesn't strike out, though his head turns and he automatically tracks the sudden movement beside him; he squints, blurry, and it takes a long few moments before recognition breaks across his features, but break it does.

He winces, getting a hand behind him to hold him up, and shakes his head to clear it.

"Jesus," he mutters, half to himself, half to signal he knows him, his voice croaking again with disuse. He groans and sits forward to rub at his eyes. "'d I wake you?"

From:

hippie_ninja

"No, I'm okay." He settles his back against the wall. He hasn't been asleep in hours, so his voice is soft, clear. "How do you feel?"

From:

konstant

Like Sapper Morton put him through another wall.

He takes a moment to answer, giving himself time to adjust to being awake - being alive. The grogginess is already lifting, taking with it the lingering, creeping claustrophobia from sleep, and if he doesn't feel normal he at least feels hopeful for the first time since waking up in the bathtub that whatever this is seems to be fading.

"Better," he finally says, and when he drops his hand away from his face and looks up at Jesus, his eyes are clearer. "When did you -" No, he remembers the gun, remembers bits and pieces of their conversation, remembers Jesus talking about dreams and being human. It's just the time piece that's missing. "How long?"

From:

hippie_ninja

"Hard to say. You've had four or five hours since I woke up." A solid eight or nine, maybe, all told. "You don't look as bad. I'm not tempted to call a doctor."

From:

konstant

Since I woke up.

"You slept?" he clarifies, relieved, pleased - even as he stretches his limbs trying to get feeling back into them faster, trying to make that feeling into something more comfortable.

"How are you feeling?"

From:

hippie_ninja

He wasn't expecting K to have any reaction to the fact of him actually getting rest. The relief in K's voice makes him grin, self-conscious at the unexpected affection it implies.

"I'm all right. Better than when I got here." Not ready, just yet, to leave. "You probably don't feel up to going out tonight, do you, yet?"

From:

konstant

He glances at the outline of light on the wall, doubtful, but the truth is he doesn't know. The truth is he's still working out what he feels.

"Is there something going on?" he hedges.

From:

hippie_ninja

"Nothing special. I just thought we could go to a magic show or find some music." Is he asking K on a date?

He didn't come here planning to do this, but there it is.

From:

konstant

Helpfully, without really thinking about it, K has picked up the sandwich he fell asleep on last night when he noticed it, settling his shoulders against the nightstand so he can still see Jesus.

He's more focused on considering their options for leaving this room - and what it means that Jesus wants to leave it with him considering his own past week and how it ended - and what it would take to make him confident in doing so.

"I don't know that the blade runner is really gone," he cautions. Or how he'll react to being outside again. "But I think I'd like that."

From:

hippie_ninja

"My friend thinks it was the locals. I haven't seen any walkers in a few days... If they're gone, the blade runner probably is, too." But he's willing to stay in, too, if K feels safer that way.

"I met someone in prison who runs a club for creative types. Poetry, singing, it's a little more laid back than where we work."

From:

konstant

He can't stay in this room forever. He doesn't even want to, not really, and despite that he doesn't want anyone else around him hurt - ever, but especially not Jesus - he finds he does feel better about the prospect of having someone with him when he tries.

And he glances up, immediately interested, when he hears about the club.

"Is that something you think you'd like?"

From:

hippie_ninja

"I really like poetry," he admits with a little grin, a tiny shrug. "I like the quieter places, it's just not everyone's go-to."

Meaning yes, he would really, really like to take K there.